


Operiant Alis

by Lady Adain (pocketTherapist)



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Soulmates, UraIchi Week 2018, Wingfic, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-05-19 12:13:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketTherapist/pseuds/Lady%20Adain
Summary: Urahara Kisuke has only ever known of one Shinigami-human soulmate pair in the entirety of his existence. He was not expecting to see another within his lifetime.He was definitely not expecting to be a part of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> UraIchi Week 2018, Day 2
> 
> This fic fought me the entire way down. Leave me to die. Why did I think this was a good idea.

Kisuke hasn’t flown in nearly a century. It’s not that he  _ can’t _ , not technically, but using his powers anywhere except his own shielded training area is vaguely akin to begging for an Onmitsukido team to break down his door that night. Stepping out of his gigai--even to fly--is too much of a risk for him to justify, especially when he knows that there’s more than just his own life on the line. The Visored are in a similar position, trapped inside their warehouse, and Kisuke can’t help but wonder if they have it worse, their instincts amplified by their inner hollow. 

 

At least they have their soulmates with them, those of them who have them. That  _ has _ to help alleviate the chafing that makes Kisuke want to claw off his own skin, some days. He can’t help but envy Tessai, without a soulbond, and Yoruichi, who comes and goes as she pleases, Onmitsukido notwithstanding. He half suspects she’s still working with them on an unofficial capacity, her soulmate more than willing to turn a blind eye where anyone else would already be under interrogation. 

 

Kisuke can’t begrudge her her happiness, though, not when so few of them have any at all these days. 

 

He wonders how  _ his _ soulmate would react, if they ever met. Of course, it’s likely too late for that, now; Shinigami don’t usually bond outside of their own race. Isshin and the Quincy girl are the only pair he can think of, and Kisuke suspects that they’ll be the only pair he sees in his lifetime. 

 

Of course, then Kurosaki Ichigo is born and everything goes right out of the water the moment he holds the tiny child. The boy he’s counting on to save the world, the one whose life he’s prepared to sacrifice… 

 

That’s his soulmate. 

 

Kisuke isn’t sure he’s  _ ever _ hated himself more. 

 

Isshin punches Kisuke in the face hard enough to break his jaw and Kisuke lets him. He’s banned from visiting after that first, disastrous incident. He lets them keep him away, too. He can’t imagine how allowing a bond with such a broken mind to cement so early would affect the child--would affect Ichigo’s development, and he’s not willing to risk it even if it makes him feel a thousand times more confined. His wings start to look more and more ragged as his motivation for self-care, never good at the best of times, slips further away. Yoruichi drops by once and gives him a look of more blatant concern than she has since they were first exiled. 

 

He can’t look  _ that _ bad, but over the next few years he learns to cope with the nagging sense of loss in the back of his mind. It’s all right. He’s all right. 

 

Then the Kuchiki girl shows up and everything goes to shit so quickly Kisuke almost isn’t ready for it despite having prepared for this precise opportunity for nearly a century. In between the chaos of starting Ichigo’s hollowfication and then fighting him for ten days, the bond doesn’t have time to react to the proximity. 

 

Still, Kisuke keeps his wings tucked close to his spine in a way he hasn’t since Onmitsukido, trying to keep his tells under control. He can feel the urge to spread them, shield himself and his mate from all the things coming. If only it were that simple. 

 

It is nothing short of agony to wait behind while Ichigo and the other teens go to lay siege to Soul Society. Kisuke wants with everything in him to be there to protect them from everything that could go wrong. His brilliant mind refuses to stop listing all the ways they could fail. 

 

Aizen takes the Hogyouku. Of course he does. Yoruichi slips back to tell him the day before the teens return. Kisuke makes himself listen, in excruciating detail, to everything that happened. He is proud, so proud, that Ichigo survived and made Bankai and took on a Captain, especially one as terrifying as Zaraki or as cunningly disciplined as Kuchiki. He is horrified to hear of his soulmate cut in half, left to bleed out while Aizen renders all his efforts moot with a single finger. 

 

He’s physically shaking by the time Yoruichi leaves, his wings curled around his shoulders in the closest thing to a protective hug he can give himself. This was one of the most risky gambles Kisuke had ever taken. And he’d  _ lost. _ Horribly so. His soulmate was nearly killed, the Hogyouku was in Aizen’s hands, and the teens were now all aware of what he had been willing to sacrifice. Kisuke is well aware of how seriously Ichigo takes his friendships, and he doesn’t delude himself into thinking that his mate would be willing to let it go. And, worse, Kisuke knows that he’d do it again if necessary. 

 

It doesn’t mean his apology is any less sincere. He had originally been going to apologize as soon as he could, but… this is something a little more private, he thinks.

 

“Kurosaki-san, if you would mind stopping by the Shoten before you go home?”

 

The wary look the teenager bestows upon him kind of hurts, but it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it. 

 

By the time they make it to the training area, Kisuke’s stomach is roiling. He’s thought of a thousand ways this conversation could play out, but when it comes down to the moment, he has no idea what he’s going to say. Ichigo is still watching him carefully, and Kisuke is suddenly sick of the entire farce. He doesn’t  _ want _ to have to hide everything he is from the one person who should know and care. 

 

With quick, sharp motions, he steps out of his gigai and slumps it against the wall. With a quick shake, he spreads out his wings and stretches them for the first time in… he can’t really remember. It’s in no way a threat, but Kisuke can see Ichigo’s wings respond anyway, flaring up and back in response. Kisuke never really noticed  _ (lie) _ but Ichigo has the most beautiful wings Kisuke’s ever seen, the rust-tipped gold of a hawk. In the right lighting, it almost matches his eyes and hair. He’s… incandescent, pure, and in that moment Kisuke wants nothing more than to run his fingers through the downy layer beneath the secondaries. 

 

He catches himself before his wings do anything embarrassing and give him away, shaking off the thoughts with a measure of fury at himself, that he would dare aspire to touch with hands as dirty as his. 

 

Then he folds himself to his knees, bowing forward to expose his neck, his wings curling down behind him submissively. Kisuke’s not good at words at the best of times, but he wasn’t expecting to be interrupted barely five seconds into his stammered apology.

 

“Oh, was that all? It’s fine, Geta-boushi, just don’t do it again. It worked out after all.” 

 

….

 

_ What? _

 

Kisuke hardly dares to glance up at Ichigo’s face, but when he risks a quick glimpse, he sees that Ichigo is crouching in front of him, eyes softer than they have any right to be when looking at  _ him _ . The young man’s hand is extended in gentle offering toward him, an invitation to rise and in the same moment an offer of so much more. Kisuke has endured a great deal in his comparatively short lifespan, but this instant of kindness almost unmakes him. 

 

It feels a little like redemption, and even if he knows he doesn’t deserve it, he can’t help himself. With a fragile--but genuine--smile, Kisuke reaches forward and takes Ichigo’s hand. 

 

And his world immediately dissolves into fire. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have the tiniest chapter to ever chapter. I'm sorry.

When he wakes up, he’s crumpled on the ground where he fell, Ichigo across from him. 

 

Kisuke scrambles across the ground with something less than his usual grace and hovers uncertainly as Ichigo stirs and sits up, holding his head. 

 

_ Geta-boushi? What the hell was that? _

 

He doesn’t hear the spoken words--they echo in the back of his mind. Instinctively, he clamps down on the fledgling bond, suppressing his own emotions and thoughts to slip into an almost meditative blankness.

 

_ Ah, Kurosaki-san, I do believe that was a soulmate bond,  _ he thinks back, and is rewarded with a rush of confusion and panic from Ichigo’s side of the bond. Kisuke is braced for that, more or less, and carefully sends back an impression of calm and soothing. The boy’s ruffled wings smooth out a little, at that, and Ichigo sits up fully to run a hand through his hair. Something wry and amused twists through the bond, and Ichigo offers Kisuke a rueful grin. 

 

“Sorry, Geta-boushi, I wasn’t quite expecting  _ that _ today.” 

 

As if he hasn’t just been bound to a man several hundred years older than him, who told him nothing and almost got him and his friends killed. Ichigo frowns, as if he’s picking up on the sentiment, and Kisuke smooths his ragged emotions back out again. His wings flutter anxiously regardless, though, and he jerks them as tightly against his back as he can manage, trying to hide the most obvious of his tells. 

 

Ichigo sends him a wash of concern and care over the bond and Kisuke almost loses control of himself at the warm sensation. Before he can help it, the question has formed, all his previous mental shields utterly  _ destroyed _ by the bonding.

 

_ Why do you care? _

 

That earns him a frown, again. Ichigo turns toward him fully, reaching out with an uncharacteristic hesitance. Kisuke turns his head into it, guilt and fear warring in equal measure. 

 

_ I… I knew. Before this, before everything. I’ve known for a long time. But you don’t-- you’re taking this very well, Kurosaki-san, for someone who just learned that you’re bonded to the creepy old shopkeeper down the road.  _

 

Ichigo actually smiles at that, a full, bright expression that Kisuke wants to  _ worship _ . 

 

_ Ah, Kisuke, you have to know that I never could have bonded with someone...well, normal. I’d actually given up ever finding someone to bond with, to be honest. And now here we are. I can’t say I know everything about you, or what you’ve done, but I’m willing to learn, if you let me. It’s not like I care, anyway. The past is the past. It’s who you are  _ now _ that matters. _

 

He’s so goddamn bright. Kisuke wants to touch and cower away in equal measure.

 

But Ichigo is smiling at him, waiting for Kisuke’s response, and he can do no more or less than reciprocate in full to the trust offered. He carefully,  _ carefully _ drops the stranglehold on his emotions, as fully as he can, being the former-assassin he is. Almost immediately, his wings fluff up with his panic, making tiny little beats, as if they want to jerk him away from the situation entirely. He can only imagine the maelstrom of emotions that Ichigo is getting off of him, the swirl that Kisuke’s near-drowning in, the guilt and the pain and the shame and the fear. 

 

True to form, Ichigo responds clearly enough. His wings stretch in  _ full _ , arching toward the ceiling, each feather splayed in a protective display that makes something in Kisuke’s primal hindbrain whimper and huddle closer to-- _ protector _ , he thinks, and then scoffs at his own sentimentality. The rush of affection and acceptance that surges through the soulbond is enough to completely overwhelm him, and for a while after that his brain just--stops. 

 

When sensation filters back into something meaningful, he’s still curled on the ground, but Ichigo is holding him, Kisuke’s back pressed into Ichigo’s keelbone, those massive, gorgeous wings curled around the both of them, the red-gold a sharp counterpoint to Kisuke’s own inky black, which have stopped panicking and now hang in something as close to relaxed as he’s ever seen them. If that’s not a telling indication of how Kisuke already sees Ichigo, nothing is. Ichigo’s chin is resting on Kisuke’s shoulder, and he’s humming softly into Kisuke’s ear, intermixed with a low, soothing chirr. 

 

He feels so safe and relaxed that he very nearly forgets to be embarrassed at a breakdown the likes of which he hasn’t had since he was a  _ fledgling _ . He’d like to think he has at least a  _ little _ dignity left, as pathetic as he is. 

 

Ichigo chirrups at him, sharply, as if he can tell what Kisuke is thinking--and he might, actually--and Kisuke sighs, relaxing back into Ichigo’s chest. He may as well accept it, since his bondmate doesn’t seem to be rejecting him any time soon. 

  
He doesn’t think the warm feeling thrumming through him seems likely to subside quickly, either. It’s--reassuring, that someone can look at him and  _ see him, _ all of him, and still think there’s something there worth keeping. 


End file.
